


Rekindled Rebellion

by pockymun



Series: The Paradox and the Prophecy: Supplementary Writings [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Galahd (Final Fantasy XV), Galahdian Culture (Final Fantasy XV), Gen, So many OCs, Worldbuilding, no canon characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27937117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pockymun/pseuds/pockymun
Summary: Finally free from Niflheim, Andromeda goes to the last place anyone would expect. Consider this The Paradox in the Prophecy 1.5.
Series: The Paradox and the Prophecy: Supplementary Writings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066928





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You know how Kingdom Hearts has so many side games in between the big three installments? There's 1.5, 2.5, 2.8... This is kind of like that. In updating Andromeda's story, I notice just how large of a gap there was between Etro's Blessing: Andromeda and Etro's Blessed Ones. It's roughly a two-year gap that I briefly mention. This is meant to explore that gap to see what Andromeda gets up to before the game's events. This is a small tangent, and once it's finished, I'll update Etro's Blessed Ones.

It was difficult to follow Hank's lead when he had terrible footing in the thick vegetation of the jungle. Andromeda found herself having to slow down, or else bump into him. It had been months since she has last been here, but she could navigate the jungle better than he could, with all his worldly expertise. He had said he didn't do much business in Galahd.

About eight months had passed since Andromeda had last been on the islands. It felt much shorter than that: six of those months, her body had been in a coma while her mind wandered about in a dream state. It was a month after she woke that she and Hank escaped Verstael's lab together. The past month hadn't been any easier, either.

Hank was doubtful that Andromeda could heal herself of Starscourge, but he had entertained the thought long enough for her to actually prove herself once she had her hands on a piece of quartz. Since Etro had shown herself to him as he and Andromeda fled from an Imperial drone, Andromeda decided to tell him the truth about everything. After all, Hank professed to being a “citizen of no where”, having no loyalties to Lucis, and especially not Niflheim. Telling him everything was the perfect way to spite the Nifs.

He wasn't too interested in _how_ she came to have powers more than he was in what she could do. Andromeda didn't explain much behind Etro before he dismissed any talk of divinity. Hank knew nothing of the prophecy, and she didn't think it was relevant anyway. He was intrigued by the dream walking most of all; he was surprisingly receptive to it when Andromeda gave a practical example.

Hank had explained some things to her as well. First was approximately how long she had been unconscious. Then he told her where exactly she had been, the First Magitek Production Facility, and how Magiteks were made. The latter explained the encounters Andromeda had had while dreaming at the facility. They really were infantile children, kept in embroytic chambers while Starscourge slowly overcame them. Then they turned and their minds were put in the metal bodies of Magiteks, ready to obey orders. That was Niflheim's solution to keep their men from dying in their conquest to rule the world.

That revelation only added to the nightmares Andromeda experienced after leaving Niflheim. Her fear of MTs was renewed, now knowing the truth behind them. She also dreamed of still being infected by Starscourge, watching as it ate away at her. Ardyn often appeared, plagued by the scourge himself as she had last seen him, and mocked her. And wherever there was scourge, there were daemons.

Andromeda was always woken up by Hank during these nightmares, as her chaotic power was summoned in her sleep. They always fled, going from safe house to safe house, and sometimes just staying at a haven. There was no way of stopping the chaos until it spent itself. It only took a few episodes for Hank to realize this was something he couldn't handle.

They had returned to Lucis because staying in the Western Continent was not an option. Andromeda couldn't return to Sheila and the farm; she knew that even before Hank told her. With power like hers, it was too dangerous to hide her away in Insomnia. It was one of the last places she wanted to go to. There weren't many places she could go that she hadn't already caused problems or would evade capture. There was one place she wanted to go, even if it'd end up killing her. It took some convincing before Hank relented to take her to Galahd.

He had explained more about the islands than the Imperials had. Something had the Galahdians stirred up to form another resistance—the same resistance Andromeda had been made to attack. It was actually how Hank had first heard about the new “technology” the Empire was testing in Galahd, and ultimately led to him finding Andromeda in Verstael's lab. He didn't often travel to Galahd, but he had served as a source of information during the first resistance nine years prior, and still had a contact there. That contact was still eagerly awaiting information on the Empire's new weapon.

Hank was slow as he trekked through the jungle, but he was the only one who knew where the rendezvous point was. Andromeda slowed herself down, trudging along behind him. She would have preferred to come alone to make her case, but Hank had an in with the Galahdian resistance that would make them more susceptible to listening. She was just something to trade off.

He halted just as there was movement from the trees ahead. Andromeda stopped behind him as a handful of men came out of hiding, each armed with either a large, curved knife or a gun. Hank held up his hands cautiously and glanced at her to do the same. He did not think it was necessary for her to have a weapon.

An older, stocky man stepped before the group, his knife remaining sheathed at his side. One of the younger men grabbed his shoulder and hissed something while looking at the two foreigners.

“They don't get many outsiders here. The world writes them off as primitive islanders.” Hank mentioned to Andromeda. “That's Sonam. He's the leader of the resistance. I'll do the talking.”

The older man grunted an acknowledgment to the younger before addressing Hank in the common language. “What did you find out?”

“I've brought the latest daemon technology that's been causing you so much grief.” Hank announced.

His claim was met with the same harsh looks as before. They all doubted him, and understandably so. Hank and Andromeda had brought nothing but themselves.

“What's with the girl?” One of the gunmen demanded. The young ones were more impatient than their leader.

“She's the witch!” The first young man shouted. Andromeda suddenly realized that he was familiar: it wasn't the first time he was calling her that. When she had last been ordered to attack a resistance camp, she had attempted to run away. The man had caught her and nearly killed her, if he hadn't been caught by her handler and forced to flee.

“Yes, your witch sightings weren't completely unfounded.” Hank replied as Sonam gave a curt order to the man in their tongue. “Did you find someone with Scourge?”

The question caused the men to all glance at Sonam. He turned to one of them and gestured for him to step forward. He did so warily, putting his knife away as he and the other men traded glances. With a last glance at Sonam, who was considerably taller than him, he pulled his shirt off. The rest of the group froze at the sight of his back. Andromeda could only see the dark splotch that came over his shoulder.

Hank looked to her. “Give them a demonstration.”

Reaching into the bag at her side, she pulled out a large piece of quartz. Since showing Hank what she could do, he had been kind enough to find plenty of these crystals for her to use. Only Niflheim was adverse to this power of hers.

The men tensed as she came forward. She ignored it as best she could, holding up the crystal as she stepped before the infected man. He looked down in shame. Andromeda didn't try to get his attention first. She simply touched his clean shoulder and concentrated. He startled, but remained put. Within a moment, she felt the Starscourge draw from him, through her, and into the crystal in her other hand. It darkened as the blotch disappeared from his shoulder, leaving behind a scar on his tan skin.

Andromeda switched the dark crystal out for a clear one before the man was completely cleaned, and she made sure none settled into her either. The other men murmured amongst themselves as they saw the Starscourge leave their comrade and darken the raised crystals. At last, she let go of the man, who was no less shocked than everyone else. He had felt what she had done for him.

She took a couple of steps back, finished. The man likewise melded back into his group, where the fresh scarring on his back was closely scrutinized.

“Only the Oracle can heal Starscourge.” One of the men stated loudly.

“Obviously that's just been proven wrong.” Hank answered. “Andromeda has no connection the Oracle line, though she is Tenebraen. But that's not all she can do. She is the weapon that Niflheim used against your camps.”

The murmuring turned to silence again, save for the many sounds of birds all around them. It was difficult to believe that someone who could magically heal others could also summon chaos at will. Andromeda could clearly remember how her power razed the resistance camps. Many had gotten caught in the chaos and died in a variety of ways. At the moment, the men must have had difficulty believing that she could have done all of that on her own.

“Prove it.” The same man challenged.

Hank glanced at her again and shrugged. “You heard him.”

“No!” The accusing man countered.

Andromeda shared his sentiment, especially as it would not be as quick as it was to heal someone of Starscourge (and even that took awhile for light infections). With so many people around, it was likely that at least one of them would get hurt. Probably not killed; she had seen firsthand how Galahdians could find cover in the jungle. Yet they wouldn't believe the stories unless they saw for themselves.

So she concentrated again, this time within herself rather than on someone else. The chaos was just under the surface, having been unleashed a lot in the past month. The trees above groaned as a gale suddenly blew through them, creating an uproar among the birds as they took flight. Smaller bits of foliage were picked up and toss about in the wind. A variety of animals suddenly appeared, and just as quickly disappeared as they fled. Shadows flitted between the trees too rapidly for anyone to catch sight of them.

After a moment or so, Andromeda stopped concentrating on the chaos. She didn't want to completely give into it; this was enough to make her point. It wasn't something she could control, and sometimes it would feed off of her whether or not she tried to cut it off. This storm wouldn't last too long, and in broad daylight without any structures anywhere, it would not cause much damage.

The men held their weapons up again. Hank did not pull out any weapon, but he looked just as tense. The best option for everyone was to seek cover until it was over, but then how would any of them get a good look at what she could do?

One of the men was suddenly in front of Andromeda with his knife. She again focused on reigning in the chaos, though it was impossible. Yet she managed to influence a shadow to knock the man away before he could strike her.

Sonam called an order to his men over the wind and they scattered. Andromeda thought to do the same, but Hank caught her arm.

“Stay right where you are.” He told her. “No running off into the jungle.”

Andromeda didn't argue it, though it wasn't any safer for them to remain standing there. They ducked and dodged as larger bits of brush and branches came flying at them, but otherwise the storm left them untouched. Perhaps not running off proved that this wasn't some kind of trap for the Galahdians. Even so, it was over thirty minutes before the chaos finally died down. The birds—the several that cautiously returned—were much quieter.

Sonam was the first to reappear, more apprehensive than before. His men were close behind, still brandishing their weapons. Their expressions had darkened; the pleasant surprise that Andromeda could heal Starscourge was gone.

“Why would you bring her here?” Sonam demanded. “She's threatened our cause before. She worked for the Empire. Niflheim will want her back.”

“I didn't have a choice.” Andromeda spoke up before Hank would. Whatever he would have said wouldn't have been enough. She could speak on her own behalf. “The Empire forced me to make those attacks. I never wanted to do it. I came back to make amends for the lives lost and the damage I've caused. Do with me what you will. I'll do whatever you want me to.”

Her words were met with disapproving silence. Clearly it was not how Hank would have handled it. The Galahdians didn't seem to appreciate her submission to them, either.

Hank brushed off her outburst. “You wanted something to use against the Empire, so I'm contracting Andromeda out to you. You could do whatever you wanted with her: imprison her, make her pay for her crimes, but it wouldn't do any good. As it is, the daemons are getting worse everywhere. The Scourge must be as well. You must know of more people who are infected. That will only take away from your resistance. You have even less of a leg to stand on than you did the first time around. She could change your odds.”

Sonam continued to stare at them as he considered it. His men were restless, muttering between themselves and Sonam. Hank acknowledged Andromeda, who held her head low.

“Galahdians have a sort of strict social customs of who can and can't speak in negotiations and meetings. Outsiders can't speak unless invited to.” He explained quietly. “They're not exactly a sympathetic lot, either.”

“What's your price?” Sonam finally asked.

The question caught Andromeda by surprise. She hadn't joined Hank's group of spies. Just like in Niflheim, she wasn't much of a person to them, but a tool to use. Or in this case, one to lend out to the highest bidder.

“For you, 8000 gil.” Hank grinned. “But I have some conditions. For starters, she is to remain here in Galahd. She not to be handed back to the Empire—not that I'm worried you'd do that. She is not to be imprisoned nor killed. If you no longer want her, return her to me. I have my own uses for her as well, but she insisted on coming here. And lastly, the Lucians are not to be told of her. They've also been looking for her.”

His conditions didn't make the Galahdians any more enthusiastic about the idea of taking Andromeda. She personally wouldn't mind whatever they decided to do with her—even if that meant killing her off. It would only be fair, after the many Galahdians she had killed. Galahd wasn't a bad place to die. At least it wasn't Niflheim.

“Alright.” Sonam agreed. His men began to argue, but he cut them off. “I'll keep her by my side. Her powers will remain a secret. Niflheim will find her all the faster if word gets out. Come here.”

He directed his order at Andromeda. Hank nudged her forward. She stopped in front of Sonam, assuming this was the part where she went along with him.

“We're going to swear to an oath.” Sonam explained. His men expressed some more disagreements to that. He ignored them, focusing on Andromeda. “If you're truly here to help us, you're going to do it our way.”

She nodded. He suddenly grasped her forearm tightly and locked eyes with her. She startled, but kept eye contact as she placed her hand on his forearm. Galahd was a warrior culture; this was one of those customs. She didn't have to be told to keep eye contact through this. To break it would show dishonesty on her part. Andromeda had to maintain it in order to show she was capable of keeping the oath.

“Do you truly mean to help us and make amends for what you have done?” Sonam asked.

“Yes.” She responded. The custom was strange to her, but it was one of many she would have to adapt to.

“I'll hold you to that.” He said. “You cannot possibly make up for the lives lost—only the damage done. In our culture, murderers and enemies are branded. But considering your many scars, you'll remain unbranded.”

Andromeda was also surprised by how bluntly he acknowledged her scars, but they were difficult to ignore. They twisted the skin of her arms and torso. She had stopped hiding them years ago, and it was impossible to do so in Galahd, especially for how hot and humid it was. She was already dressed in a similar manner to the men: a tank top and pants.

“As for my oath to you.” Sonam continued. “I am taking you under my protection. No Galahdian may harm you.”

He went on in the Galahdian language, invoking more words than he had in the common tongue. His men balked, but he spoke over them. They didn't dare approach and break his hold.

Sonam just as abruptly let go of Andromeda as he had grabbed her. The oaths were sealed and she could finally look away.

“Let's go.” He ordered his men, then glanced towards Hank, who stood some distance away. “You'll get your money.”

Andromeda also look one last look at the spy. She had spent a month with him, and it didn't take much to know that neither one of them minded this parting. Especially considering Hank was leasing her out to the Galahdians, albeit at an absurdly low price.

“Stay out of trouble.” He told her with a wink.

She turned away and followed Sonam's lead. She wasn't going to miss him. She had to wonder if he would come looking for her at some point; he had said he had work for her to do.

Hank was left behind as Andromeda walked with the Galahdians. She didn't look back. The younger men took the lead while Sonam trailed behind with her.

“We do things differently than in Lucis, or Tenebrae, or wherever you're from.” Sonam explained.

“Tenebrae.” She clarified. After what had happened in Niflheim, there was no need to lie about who she truly was, because the life she had had while posing as a Lucian was gone. All she had left was who she really was. “But I've been all over.”

Sonam raised a brow as they kept walking. “Tenebrae's a long way's away.”

“It's a long story.”

“And I will hear all of it.” He vowed.

* * *

It wasn't quite as long as a trek as Andromeda had taken with Hank when they entered the jungle. Perhaps an hour had passed before she caught sight of the camp. Soon after they were walking through it.

The men dispersed once they were in the camp again. She continued to follow Sonam, noting the looks that she got from passerbys. They were unfriendly; she obviously didn't belong there.

Sonam ignored them. He led Andromeda to the largest tent at the very end of their path. He waited for her to enter first, then closed the canvas door behind himself.

For just being a tent, it was organized more like some kind of command center, which Andromeda had become familiar with in her time with Hank. Little natural light could get through the fabric walls, and there were few lanterns in the tent, making it dim. There was a makeshift desk almost in the center of everything, and tables lining the walls. There were many maps and papers strewn about.

Sonam leaned against the desk and looked Andromeda over, crossing his arms. “Why were you with the spy?”

“He found me in Niflheim.” She explained. There was no longer a reason to lie, especially if she wanted to win his trust. “When I was here last, under Imperial control, I had tried to kill my commanding officer and run. So I was sent back to Niflheim. Hank found me after a few months and we escaped together.”

That wasn't the complete story. Andromeda had first been taken to Tenebrae by Ardyn, although it still remained unclear just what his motivation had been. It didn't matter, because he had found out she could heal Starscourge, flew into a rage that revealed his true nature, and infected Andromeda with the scourge. It was only when Etro revealed herself to him that Andromeda was spared, but the goddess had accidentally knocked her mind out of her body—it was all too much to explain, and not relevant to the moment.

“I convinced him to let me come back here.” Andromeda added. “It wasn't for money. He just saw a way to profit from it.”

“I don't put much trust in that Lucian. He's always been a greedy bastard.” Sonam shook his head. “He'll be paid, but I don't care so much for that deal as the deal between us. You're the one with the power. Hank just thinks he's in control.”

“Right.” Andromeda agreed. She hadn't realized until the encounter in the jungle just how Hank saw her: a tool. Sonam was already proving that he was not quite the same. “I meant what I said, though: you can deal with me as you see fit. Even if that means killing me.”

He observed her silently for a moment, but she said no more. She had come back to the islands knowing that she might not live much longer after arriving, and was fine with that. She had to live so carefully before Niflheim found out about her; now she would always have to hide or run, and after a month of doing so, she didn't think she would be able to keep it up very long before being recaptured.

“Well, I ought to. It's what everyone out there would want. In the old ways, we didn't keep prisoners of war and we killed enemies who killed less people than you did.” Sonam explained. “But that power is too useful. Klahan told me of your last encounter here and your attempt on your commanding officer's life. You might have saved his life, but your actions towards your superior doesn't make it any easier to trust you. What's to say you won't pull the same stunt here? Let us get comfortable around you, then you'll attack.”

Andromeda didn't like his implication. She kept herself from openly scowling as she crossed her own arms. “I was standing up for what was right. If I were here to destroy you, I would have done it already.”

She would have tried harder when summoning chaos earlier. Killing the rebel leader would have suddenly put an end to the resistance. There was no need for backstabbing tactics.

“Alright.” Sonam said. “So why come back here if you think we would kill you?”

“It was the right thing to do. Niflheim forced me to attack, but I still did it myself. I can't run from the consequences.” She shrugged. Up until now, she had always tried to run from the consequences of her actions. Now there was no hiding who she was nor what she could do. “I'm not asking for forgiveness. Klahan could have killed me before, but he didn't. I think I could be some use here. I want to be on the right side of this war.”

Sonam grunted at that. “The war's moved on. If you want war, you should have gone to Insomnia.”

“Honestly, I don't trust them much more than the Nifs.” Andromeda admitted. “And I'm guessing you don't have much faith in them either.”

“Before the Nifs took over, Galahd was a Lucian territory.” He said. “We weren't independent and free, but the Lucians could be dealt with. They left us alone for the most part. The king promised aid after the Empire attacked, but that dried up not long after. It's only been in the past couple years that the resistance could be revived. So no, there's not a lot to be thankful towards the Lucians. Everything you've seen so far has been built up by us, without their help. You nearly crushed it all when the Imperials had you. It's taken several months of your absence to build up what we lost.”

“I'm glad you persisted.” Andromeda commented. “My parents were part of the resistance in Tenebrae. When Niflheim attacked the Manor, they also targeted our village because it was a hub for the resistance.” She held out her arms to bring his attention to the scars. “I have nothing to be thankful towards the Nifs. Even if they saved me, just to see if they could. The resistance died that day. I was able to visit Tenebrae last year. Everyone is complacent under Imperial rule, even after everything the Empire has done. They set the forest on fire.”

Sonam's face shifted has he listened and observed the scars. His gaze became less piercing as he gave a nod. “The militia had some contact with the Tenebraen resistance, back in the old days. We heard about what Niflheim had done to them while the rest of the world only cared about the castle. We never heard from them again.”

“The Tenebraens will no longer fight. The heir to the throne is a traitor, and the Oracle is just a figurehead. But you all here fight to the last breath.” Andromeda explained. “I want to join you.”

“That is why you are here.” Sonam pointed out. “Not to face judgment, but to join our cause. I admire it, but the others won't feel the same way. You are not Galahdian. You're too valuable to turn away, but the rebels here aren't going to be sympathetic to you. They've lost family because of you.”

“I know. I'm not here for sympathy.” Andromeda acknowledged. “I can take whatever hate they have for me.”

“Well, my oath still stands. They will know it and they will not try to harm you.” He assured. “Unless you attack first. Then you would have broken the oath and I will not stop them from killing you. Just try to keep that power contained.”

She frowned. That would always be a problem: she could keep the power contained, but when it came time to use it, she could not control it. It wasn't as if she had planned to kill anyone: it was just an inevitable fact she had come to accept with her power. It came from the goddess of death. Andromeda would always have to serve penance for those deaths.

“Like I said, you won't be forgiven for the lives lost. Word is probably already spreading around camp about what you've done.” Sonam assumed. “Tell you what: you can prove your worth when you've saved more lives than you've taken.”

“How many have I taken?” Andromeda asked. She had long lost count, and she didn't always see all of the destruction she caused.

“I have the names.” Sonam stated. “Once you've proven your worth, you'll have a place among us. Until then, I'll be keeping you close.”

“Okay.” She found it amenable, though she wasn't sure what he had in mind for saving lives. He hadn't said anything about more scourge victims.

He glanced at the door. “Then we have an understanding of each other. I suppose it's time to introduce you to the rest of the camp. Come.”

Opening the flaps, he led the way out into the sunlight again. Andromeda tried not to grimace too much. Among the other tents, she only saw a couple of other people.

Sonam whistled sharply and hollered for attention, startling her with the sudden loudness. Everyone heard it clearly, though: many people quickly gathered before him. It was not a very large camp, yet Andromeda was surprised by the amount of people that showed up.

“We have an ally from Tenebrae, Andromeda. Some of you might know her as the witch that attacked our camps several months ago.” Sonam began. She winced as he referred to her as a witch; she would have to get that out of their heads. “She was conscripted by the Imperial Army, but has since fled to join our cause. And some of you have been witnesses to the oath of protection I have taken over her. No Galahdian may harm her. Do so and you will be discharged. Your family's reputation will be damaged.”

No one spoke at that. Plenty of the people glowered, even moreso when Sonam explained his oath. He had been right: Andromeda was hated by a majority of the rebels. He had tried to make her look good by calling her an ally, but then calling her a witch negated the gesture. No matter how much everyone hated her, they couldn't do anything about it.

Sonam waited a moment for someone to speak, then moved on. “Klahan, a word. Everyone else, go back to work.”

While everyone dispersed, the man who particularly insisted on calling Andromeda a witch stepped forward. His expression was sour, even though he did not even look at her.

“You two already know each other, from what I've gathered.” Sonam said. “Find her a spare bunk and something to do. No heroic lifesaving just yet.”

He had directed his last words to Andromeda. She was surprised to be dismissed, already leaving his sight. Yet she wordlessly followed Klahan. If he hadn't killed her before the oath was taken, he wasn't about to now.

The bunk wasn't far from Sonam's large tent at all. It was a little cramped inside with two cots and a small table that held a lantern. The blankets on one of the cots were disorderly, and there was a compression on the pillow. The other cot was completely untouched.

“Who else sleeps here?” Andromeda asked.

“Another woman.” Klahan grunted. “You cook?”

“Yes.” She replied, and no sooner had she spoken that he turned and began walking away. She hurried to catch up and follow him.

He led her to the other end of the camp, to another large tent. A couple of people were already preparing food. Klahan spoke with them in Galahdian. One of the women set Andromeda to cutting vegetables. He left while her back was turned.

Everyone continued to speak in Galahdian, as if she wasn't there. She didn't mind it: she recognized a couple of words by now, but did not know their meanings. The only time they spoke to her was to scold her for not doing something right. She didn't mind that either, because they only corrected her and then went back to their conversation.

When dinner was finally ready, the cooks served everyone as they gathered. They mentioned that it was so everyone got an equal portion. Andromeda continued to do whatever she was told. The cooks ate last, and having no one else to sit with, she joined them. The meal was silent.

After everyone had eaten, she was tasked with washing the dishes alone. It went even slower because of the very rudimentary plumbing of the camp. It was very late when she finally finished. With no one around to tell her what to do, Andromeda decided to just go to her bunk.

The other cot was still empty when she arrived. She only laid on her own and went to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first couple of days are off to a rocky start.

The other cot was still empty when Andromeda woke the next morning at dawn. She didn't think the other woman could have come in and left without waking her up once. The other woman hadn't come at all.

Andromeda didn't dwell on it for too long. Most people were already awake in the camp. She hadn't been give orders of where to report in the morning; she didn't want to report to Sonam without be called by him. She surmised to return to the cooks to help with breakfast.

Breakfast went the same as dinner had the night before. She was put to work right away, and made to clean up by herself afterwards. It was late morning by the time she was done. Once again, no one was around to tell her what to do next.

There were a couple of whoops in the camp, each one sounding progress towards the large tent. Andromeda hurried along to see what was going on. She didn't want to show up last.

She caught sight of a group in the small spaces between tents and shacks. There were four of them, and she was certain she had not seen them here before. Three of them were men and one was a woman. Occasionally someone else tagged along with the group as it approached Sonam's tent.

Andromeda came to the open area before the tent. The group had lost the couple of people that had trailed behind them once they made it, and the men hardly glanced at her. The woman stopped, though. Andromeda froze as well.

Hira had changed a little since high school. She was a little bigger now with muscle tone. She had grown her brown hair out, especially on one side. The other side had two braids along her skull. She was dressed like everyone else in the camp: in pants and a tank top. One of the large, curved knives was sheathed at her side.

She left the guys and walked over to Andromeda, a grin growing on her face. Andromeda herself had to smile. The last thing she had expected was to find someone from her past.

“It's not possible.” Hira muttered to herself, then stopped in front of her. “You actually made it.”

“I have a lot to explain.” Andromeda admitted. They had talked about her visiting Galahd when they were still in high school, but neither of them had been too serious about it.

“Yeah you do! The last time we talked was at that festival, and then you were gone the next day.” Hira's grin lessened. “It was your apartment that burnt down, wasn't it? It was all over the news. There was gossip that you were dead, or that you set the fire, but we know that's a stretch.”

A man—not from Hira's group—caught sight of them and approached. “You know the witch?”

“What are you talking about?” She asked, frowning. “We didn't see any sign of the witch while we were out there.”

“No, _this_ is the witch. She really did attack our camps.” He clarified, gesturing to Andromeda. “Now she's on our side. Or so she says.”

Hira looked at Andromeda as her expression changed from confusion to accusation. Her short temper was still the same from high school. She had every right to be angry. There was no doubt that Hira would return to Galahd after high school, especially if she heard of a resistance. The Empire had killed her older brother. They all seemed to know that the witch had been working for Niflheim those months ago.

“Is it true?” Hira demanded.

Andromeda winced at her tone. “Yes, but it hadn't been my cho--”

The other woman's fist smashed into her eye. She staggered back from the impact, and before she recovered Hira grabbed her and threw her down in the dirt. She loomed over Andromeda, about to come down on her. Andromeda kicked her in the gut hard, forcing her to double over. With another swing of her leg, she kicked Hira's feet from underneath her.

While Hira was down, Andromeda hurried to get on top of her and pin her arms down on the ground. “Will you just listen?”

In response, Hira broke her hold and tossed her off. Andromeda landed next to her, then scrambled to her feet. Hira did the same, pulling out her knife. Andromeda barely had time to notice the people rushing to the scene before Hira made to cut her. Andromeda grabbed her wrist with both hands to keep the blade from touching her own skin.

She focused so much on the knife that she didn't see the other fist when it crashed into her face. Andromeda finally punched back in retaliation, losing her grip on Hira's wrist. The knife missed her as she felt Hira's nose crack underneath her own fist.

Two large arms suddenly grabbed Andromeda from behind and pulled her away. At the same time, Klahan appeared out of the crowd that had gathered and grabbed hold of Hira. Many of those who had gathered had drawn their weapons. The oath had been broken.

“What happened?” Sonam boomed next to Andromeda's ear, letting her know that he was the one holding her.

She remained silent. She hadn't meant to break the oath, but it was clear as the blood dribbling from Hira's nose. Though if she recalled right, Hira was the one to break it first. Everyone had seen her draw her blade on Andromeda.

“You fell for the witch's tricks!” Hira roared. Klahan tightened his grip on her.

A man from the crowd spoke up. He was one of the newcomers. “Hira struck first.”

“She violated the oath.” Another added.

Hira's face became a mixture of confusion and horror. She understood that she was now the one in trouble. She would be discharged and her family's reputation would lessen because of her actions.

“She didn't know about the oath.” Andromeda insisted, hoping to diffuse the situation. “It was just a misunderstanding. No one was seriously hurt.”

It was silent as Sonam considered her pleas. He soon let go of her and gave his verdict. “Hira, get fixed up and report in with the other scouts. The rest of you, get back to work.”

Weapons were put away as the crowd dispersed. No one would be punished. Andromeda was certain she wasn't the only one relieved at that.

“Are you okay?” Sonam asked her.

She turned to face him. Her face was beginning to throb. “Yeah. It was nothing.”

He raised a brow at that, then turned his attention to the crowd that was leaving. “Klahan.”

The younger man approached, keeping a neutral expression.

“Keep an eye on her. Make sure no other fights are started.” Sonam ordered.

Klahan scowled at the command, but didn't complain about it. He gestured for Andromeda to follow him and walked away. She followed without a word.

She expected him to simply hand her off to someone else, but he didn't speak to anyone as they walked. Klahan led the way to a smaller tent. Through the opening, Andromeda could see an assortment of blades and guns that were crammed inside. It was a disorganized mess.

He blocked the entrance to give her a sharp look. “Don't touch anything.”

With that, he turned and entered. Andromeda followed, looking around. There were more weapons than people amassed for the camp. Klahan sat on one of the crates and busied himself with a set of blades, sharpening them with a whetstone.

She found another crate to sit on. She had expected him to set her to work with something, but he had told her not to touch anything. It was some show of trust to bring her to these weapons at all, especially as no one wanted her to have one.

Andromeda sat and silently watched Klahan work for awhile before she finally decided to say something. “Thanks for stepping in that fight.”

He didn't answer, or even acknowledge that she had spoken. He continued to sharpen blades.

“And for not killing me last year.” She added.

“You came after us with your magic.” Klahan pointed out, still continuing to work. “You used it against that general. You might have been trying to kill him, but it doesn't make us trust you any more. You're in it for yourself. You are not Galahdian, and you have no place here on the islands.”

Andromeda frowned, but said nothing to counteract him. She wished he would acknowledge that she had saved his life when he hadn't killed her—Dalton had aimed his gun at Klahan.

They sat in silence, since conversation was not welcome. Andromeda tried to doze off as her face continued to throb. Watching Klahan perform maintenance on weapons was rather boring.

She wasn't sure how much time passed, but he eventually grew bored of babysitting her. As it was, the sun was in the right position in the sky for the cooks to begin making dinner. Klahan escorted Andromeda to them and left her there, just as he had the night before.

* * *

It was late once again when she was finally finished with the dishes. Andromeda could finally return to her bunk. By now she had realized that Hira had blackened her eye; half of her face was tender. She was glad to finally be going to bed.

Not long after she had laid down, though, someone came through the flap. She rolled over to see Hira standing by the entrance. Her nose had been straightened, but her face was still swollen.

She looked down at Andromeda with disgust. She gave a scoff. “They put you with me?”

Andromeda wasn't sure of what to say. She was just as surprised, though she should have realized it by now that her bunkmate was Hira. She had been missing until this morning, and she was the only woman to have returned with the scouts.

Hira took two steps to her own cot and collapsed onto it. She turned her back to Andromeda. Andromeda turned her back to her as well.

* * *

She woke early the next morning, and left before Hira would wake. Andromeda reported in to the cooks for the breakfast round. They were beginning to expect her; this was becoming one of her tasks within the camp. She was glad to have something to do.

Once she was finished with dishes a couple of hours later, Andromeda wasn't sure what to do. Luckily, Sonam appeared, looking for her.

“You know Hira?” He asked, arms crossed.

“Yeah. We haven't seen each other in years.” Andromeda explained. “After Tenebrae was attacked, I was snuck into Insomnia. Hira and I went to school together for a couple of years. I spent a lot of time with her family.”

It was understandable that Hira was hurt by what Andromeda had done to in Galahd, especially after her family had taken such a liking to her. Hira's whole neighborhood had welcomed Andromeda. So far, she had repaid the favor by killing their countrymen.

“Well, you were able to hold your own in a fist fight, but you're going to have to do better than that.” Sonam explained. “I would have thought the Nifs would have taught you better.”

“I'm a little out of practice.” Andromeda reasoned.

Between the six-month coma and the following solitary confinement without food, she had lost much of the strength she had built up while under Imperial custody. It hadn't been too long since she had escaped—about a month and a half. With Hank, she had been able to get regular meals again and prove that she could still throw a punch. It would be some time before she regained her strength.

“I didn't take you on to be a servant girl.” Sonam pointed out. “You'll need to do better than that. I've managed to find one person in this whole camp that doesn't want you dead. You'll spar with him. This way.”

Andromeda once more followed after him through the camp. She was thankful that Sonam was finally giving her a chance. She had said that she would do whatever they put her to, but she was getting restless with the simple tasks. She had been brought on because she could do so much more. Washing dishes would not get back at the Nifs.

Another man waited before the large tent. Andromeda recognized him as the one she had healed of Starscourge. His skin was a darker tan and he was slightly shorter than her. He was one of the men that kept his hair very short, whereas some others in the camp grew their hair out so they could braid it. It meant something, but she didn't know what. The man offered a small smile as Andromeda and Sonam approached.

“You remember Tshering?” Sonam assumed, putting a little distance between himself and the other two.

“Hey.” The man offered quietly. Andromeda nodded in return.

“You'll spar hand-to-hand until you've shown some improvement.” Sonam instructed. “Begin.”

She braced, but Tshering did not throw a punch immediately. Instead he firmly planted his feet on the ground, widening his stance.

“Copy what I do.” He said.

It wasn't so much of a sparring match as a training session. Andromeda followed Tshering's movements, blocking and occasionally landing a hit on him. She was thrown down into the dirt a considerable amount of times. She was familiar with the fighting technique, but did not voice her annoyance at their assumption that she knew nothing. She had lost muscle mass; she hadn't forgotten how to fight.

Much of the afternoon passed before Sonam called for them to stop. Andromeda didn't feel she had improved—merely proved that she wasn't as pathetic as the men thought. She was bruised, exhausted, and covered in dirt. Sonam dismissed her to clean herself up and go help with dinner, as well as to report to him at dawn.

The lean-to showers weren't great, but the water felt nice enough as her body began to feel sore all over. It was also early enough that few people were vying to take a shower in the limited amount of stalls.

Andromeda tried to keep the shower short, but she still managed to show up late to prepare dinner. No one complained, simply setting her to work and ignoring her. She still didn't mind that; there weren't many chances to get alone time in the camp. Even with a full curtain blocking the shower stalls, the walls and fabric were thin.

Her most important task with dinner was the dishes afterwards. Of all the places Andromeda had been, one thing was consistent: no one wanted to wash the dishes. It seemed fitting to make the least-liked person to do them. She washed dishes late into the night.

She wasted no time in returning to her tent. The exhaustion had only gotten worse, and Sonam had something planned for her in the morning. Andromeda was already in bed when Hira finally showed up. She almost propped herself up, but still could not think of what to say to her. Hira simply laid on her cot and turned her back to her. Andromeda then rolled over and went to sleep.

* * *

There were no clocks or alarms to tell the hour—only the sun and moon. Andromeda managed to wake just before sunrise, and left her tent without waking Hira. She seemed to be a deep sleeper.

The large tent wasn't at all far from where Andromeda slept. The sun breached the horizon as she stood at the door, wondering if she should try knocking before entering. A moment later, she spotted Sonam coming up one of the two paths in the camp. He showed no surprise that she had already shown up.

“How much do you know about plants?” He asked once he was close enough.

“I know plenty about Lucian plants,” Andromeda stated. “But I don't know much about the ones here in Galahd.”

Sonam nodded, then glanced back down the path as Tshering appeared. Whatever task Sonam had for Andromeda, she wouldn't be doing it alone.

Tshering gave a smile in greeting, which was becoming strange for how little these people smiled around Andromeda. If she hadn't healed him, he would have turned into a daemon in only a matter of time—apparently only he realized this and was grateful. Most of the camp probably didn't believe that miracle, or suspected she had cursed him. Whatever the case, it didn't matter to her. She didn't mind the hate everyone had for her, but she wouldn't disregard a potential friend.

“You're going to find some plants. Tshering will show you what they are,” Sonam explained. “If you can heal the Scourge, then I'm guessing you know how to heal the normal stuff too. You won't save many lives if you don't.”

“I know a bit about that,” Andromeda confirmed. She had learned quite a bit about tending injuries while in Lucis. Hunters had always come to the farm with ailments.

“Good,” Sonam nodded again. “The daemons will be gone by now. Tshering knows the path. Go.”

Tshering began walking northward, past the large tent. The jungle laid just beyond that, the camp residing in a small clearing. Andromeda followed his lead into the trees. They didn't go too far before passing two other people standing nearby. A pole stood in the ground between them, etched with strange symbols Andromeda had never seen before. They nodded towards Tshering, who nodded back and kept walking. She continued after him, keeping focused.

“Thanks for healing me,” He abruptly spoke when they couldn't see the perimeter guards anymore. “I'd been hiding it for weeks. Thought Sonam was going to kill me himself when he figured out I was infected. The Oracle could never be bothered with us. I'm glad someone can be. Sorry if I was too rough with you yesterday.”

Andromeda wasn't sure how to respond to being thanked. She took a moment to recall the last time anyone had thanked her for healing them. It had been a Nif, and she had immediately bashed his head in with the heavy crystal she had used to heal him. This was a very different situation. “You weren't. Hira hits harder.”

Tshering snorted, but was not offended. “She's a fighter. I'm more of a scout and healer. But I want Nif blood as much as anyone else out here. Hira was the new girl before you showed up. Rumor around camp is that you two used to be friends.”

“We were,” Andromeda admitted. “We'd still be, if Hira would just listen.”

“She's a bit too aggressive for that,” Tshering pointed out. “She likes to punch more than use words. If you two were really good friends though, she'll come around. She's just high-strung. There's no use staying angry at someone if they'll be dead tomorrow.”

They came to a river bank, but remained where the ground was still mostly dry and solid, away from the mud. Tshering crouched in front of some small green shrubs. Andromeda knelt next to him and mimicked his actions as he picked at the stems.

“Know this one?” He asked. She frowned and shook her head. “Wormwood. It's an anti-septic.”

“Oh,” She should have known that, but the plant was a different species from its Lucian counterpart. She didn't think it resembled the Tenebraen wormwood either. “What is it called in your language?”

Tshering was surprised by the question. He didn't reject it. “ _Braphed_.”

Andromeda mulled over the word as they continued to pick away at the shrubs. Tshering had brought a satchel because he was the only one who knew what sort of task they would be given. They picked most of the patch, leaving some behind so that the plants would recover in the next season. The gesture was familiar to her; she had been taught the same thing by her grandmother in Tenebrae. She smiled at the memory as she followed Tshering to the next plant.

Most of the plants were unrecognizable, a different variation not found in the rest of the world. For each one, Andromeda always asked for the Galahdian name when Tshering gave the common one. She silently repeated the names to herself, trying to learn them by rote. He didn't seem to mind until the satchel was full and they were finished.

“Well what do you call all these plants in Tenebraen?” Tshering finally asked, sounding exasperated. Her constant need for their Galahdian names was apparently more annoying than she had thought.

“I don't know,” Andromeda admitted, feeling that shame she had had when she was twelve and couldn't understand what her grandmother was saying to her. “The Imperials must have outlawed the old tongue. Only the very old spoke it. I never learned enough of it before I left.”

It hadn't been easy when the schoolteacher had also banned the use of the old tongue in his lessons, and most of the adults around Andromeda had an easier time speaking the common tongue. Whenever it became difficult to express what they wanted to, they would just speak in common tongue. Slowly but surely, the old tongue died away. She was certain it was dead now; anyone who had spoken it fluently had to have been long gone.

“The Imperials don't like our language any better either,” Tshering stated, his expression becoming serious. “Do you know any Galahdian?”

Andromeda shook her head. “Some words are familiar to me, but I don't know their meanings.”

Much of what happened among the rebel camps was conducted almost solely in Galahdian. It was another way in which Galahd was very different from Tenebrae: when the Imperials tried to squash the original language, Galahdians pushed back by using it more. As far as she could tell, everyone she had heard speaking it spoke fluently.

“I could teach you a few more words, since you're going to be here awhile.” Tshering suggested, beginning to lead the way on the trail.

“Thank you,” Andromeda was surprised at the gesture. She wasn't going to pass it up—there were a few words she heard frequently, but did not know their meanings. They must have been very important to know for the resistance.

* * *

They took the freshly-gathered plants to the medical tent. This would be the station that Andromeda would see a lot of use in, assuming she was a healer. While preserving the plants, Tshering showed Andromeda a few bottled herbs and taught her the words for them. They moved on to other words that were common among the camp. Andromeda learned the words for “foreigner” and “witch”, the latter (“ _boksi_ ”) of which she still did not like. The former was often used as an insult towards her as well—“ _bora_ ” at worst; “ _videsi_ ” at best.

Once everything was sorted in the medical tent, she spent the rest of the afternoon in another training session. It was still hand-to-hand; no one trusted her enough yet to let her have a weapon. Klahan served as her opponent in order to give Tshering a break. Surprisingly, Klahan fought fair, although he did not say a word to Andromeda. She had no words for him either, preferring the silence between them.

She remembered what she had learned from the Imperials, but it didn't help her. Stance was important to both Imperials and Galahdians, but Imperials seemed to have a problem of getting stuck in their stance. Galahdians were more fluid in their motions, moving more often and with much more footwork. Though quick, their strikes were precise, aiming for vital areas. Andromeda was learning to abandon the stiff stance in favor of dodging rapid blows. She spent less time on the ground during this session.

Of course, she still had to help prepare dinner for the whole camp. However, she did not sit alone when she was finally able to eat: Tshering came back from watch around the same time, and sat with her to review words and introduce some food-related ones. When it came time to wash the dishes, though, he conveniently had something else to go do. Andromeda set to work without complaint.

When she finally returned to her tent, Hira was already there for once. Her hair was wet from the shower, and she was in the process of braiding her hair again on the left side of her head. As curious as Andromeda was about those braids, and many other things, she turned her back to the other woman and laid on her cot. Neither of them spoke. Soon after, Hira also went to bed.

When Andromeda woke in the morning, Hira was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have one more chapter planned after this, and then it may devolve into a few drabbles. So far, there's no canon characters planned to make an appearance. I just can't think of any that would. The past semester was rough, and I'm feeling a little too burnt out for much writing like I was earlier this year.  
> This chapter is still mostly dialogue, but the next one will be more action-packed. If you are interested in Galahdian culture and folklore, I highly recommend reading ertrunkener_Wassergeist's works. They go way more in depth than I will. I tend to go more in depth with Tenebraen stuff.


End file.
